selling

Fifa wants to create a commercial subsidiary to run its main events, including its World Cups, and external investors will be able to buy stakes in it.

It said it would “invite third parties to make minority, non-controlling investments” in a new subsidiary – Fifa Forward Enterprise (FFE).

On Friday, Fifa said FFE had been proposed “to ensure all Fifa member associations have the opportunity to take meaningful ownership of the commercial opportunity of football in their respective countries”.

“This does not come at the cost of either the spirit or the governance of Fifa or football itself,” it added.

However, Uefa has accused Fifa of using football “to enrich themselves and their friends”.

Infantino previously wrote to Fifa members saying they will receive $40m (£30m) if they back his controversial proposal. He set a deadline of 19 September for federations to accept his plans if they want to access an initial $20m (£15m).

If approval is granted, Fifa says Thrive Eternal is expected to lead the proposed investor group for FFE.

Thrive is an American venture capital firm founded by Joshua Kushner – the brother of US President Donald Trump’s son-in-law Jared.

This week FIFA announced plans to form a new subsidiary company to run part of the World Cup and offer a 20% stake to private investors, worth over $4B. Jared Kushner’s brother’s investment firm Thrive Eternal has been named a likely buyer. Al Jazeera’s Mohammad Saleh explains.

Beth used Vinted to sell all her unwanted items – and thinks other UK households could also be sitting on thousands of pounds

A Brit woman sold her unwanted things to start a new life abroad. But while she loves it, she misses one unusual thing about British life in particular.

Beth Hackman made £3,000 selling her unwanted clothes on Vinted to fund her dream move to Australia. She sold more than 600 items, including unwanted clothes, shoes and accessories on the app.

The 25 year old used the funds to pay for a flight, visa and accommodation in Sydney in March this year. Now she has started a new life as a physiotherapist.

But despite loving her new life, she does miss one aspect of life on the UK high street you perhaps wouldn’t expect. She said: “I’m loving Australia because of the work-life balance. I’m working fewer hours here than in the UK and making the same salary equivalent. I miss my family so much because I’m so close with them but I message and call them every day. Other than that I miss a Tesco meal deal.”

She decided to sell most of her clothes after realising she had far too many things. Beth listed everything from gym wear and occasion dresses to her brother’s prom suit and even a pair of Alexander McQueen trainers, which sold for £200.

“I’d just accumulated too much and hated how much was generally fast fashion,” Beth, from Windsor, Berkshire, said. “Moving to Australia has been a dream for around three years.

“I actually got to the point just before I went travelling that I sold all of my shoes so I just had my gym and running trainers or a random pair of heels left. I’d say I’ve sold at least 600 items and that much was just sat in my wardrobe.”

She believes many households are sitting on hundreds, if not thousands, of pounds worth of unwanted possessions without realising it. Beth said: “I would 100% encourage people to declutter if they’re saving for a major life goal. People don’t realise how much they could make.

“I think we’re all over consumers. Some of my friends have obscene amounts of clothes. Also, I feel better buying things second hand and also recycling my own clothes on Vinted. I wear a dress once and then sell it rather than let it sit in my wardrobe.”

Beth believes many people miss out on making easy money simply because they don’t present their listings properly. She also believes detailed descriptions and quick postage make a huge difference, helping her build positive reviews that encouraged more buyers.

Beth said: “Taking good photos with a clean background is key. I also used a mannequin sometimes. Good descriptions are important. I had a postage locker on my way to work so always posted things quickly so got lots of good reviews.

“I think people initially put things up for way too much. People on Vinted want a bargain and won’t pay normal resell prices. I will always negotiate. I’d rather it be sold and out of my house and lose out on 50p than be set on prices. Although some people do take the p***.

“Photos and descriptions really matter to me as a buyer and I wouldn’t buy from someone who looks like they don’t put effort in so I make sure my posts looks better.” Beth first downloaded Vinted around five years ago, but not with the intention of making money.

Instead, she used the resale platform as a savvy shopping tool, searching for designer pieces to see how they looked on real people before buying them new. She said: “I started to use it as a platform to double check a product.

“If I wanted a dress from House of CB, I’d search it on Vinted to see how it looked on real bodies and to compare sizes. I like to think I’m clever for this. It’s basically picture reviews.”

Published on 28/07/2026 – 7:11 GMT+2•Updated
7:22

Trading was temporarily halted as the Kospi dropped to its lowest level since April after shares in chipmakers Samsung Electronics and SK Hynix fell sharply.

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The Kospi was down 10.5% at 6,051.19 in overnight trading. Samsung’s shares tumbled 12%, while SK Hynix’s shares were down 12.7%.

A big factor driving the selling of AI-related shares, analysts said, is the expectation that competition from Chinese AI start-ups and chipmakers might undermine gains for global companies whose shares have skyrocketed due to the AI frenzy.

A 466% jump in the price of Chinese chipmaker CXMT on its trading debut Monday has underscored such concerns. CXMT raised at least $8.6 billion (around €7.6bn) in its initial public offering on Shanghai’s tech-oriented STAR exchange.

Most other Asian markets also fell, with Tokyo’s Nikkei 225 down 4% at 62,350.18. The Taiex in Taiwan skidded 3.9%. Hong Kong’s Hang Seng edged 0.1% lower, to 25,178.21, while the Shanghai Composite index lost 1% to 3,820.52.

In Australia, the S&P/ASX 200 bucked the regional trend, gaining 0.6% to 8,944.40.

Elsewhere, oil prices extended their declines as US and Iran refrained from attacks for a third straight day.

Officials in the Middle East said mediators had made progress in getting the two sides back to negotiations.

Brent crude, the international standard, fell 0.8% to $85.16 a barrel. US benchmark crude oil lost 0.9% to $81.86 a barrel.

Stocks on Wall Street drifted to a mixed close Monday. The S&P 500 gained less than 0.1% and the Dow Jones Industrial Average rose 0.5%. The Nasdaq composite fell 0.2% for its fourth straight loss.

Additional sources • AP

Fatima ‘Teema’ Mahmud uploaded a short clip on her Telegram Status that morning; it showed a leaked intimate video involving individuals in northern Nigeria. The time was 8:13 a.m.; minutes later, she uploaded another one and another. By midday, she had uploaded dozens of similar pieces of content. By evening, there were hundreds.

Some of the updates advertised leaked, non-consensual intimate videos that had circulated across social media timelines in the region days earlier. Others promoted sex work services, paid erotic video calls, and private VIP groups featuring explicit videos of women, particularly northern actresses. Among them, and pinned prominently at the top of Fatima’s Telegram profile, were screen records of what she claimed were sexual and nude videos of children, advertised under paid access tiers.

The next morning, the cycle began again.

This reporting was never supposed to become an investigation into child sexual abuse material. It began with a simpler question: where do the leaked intimate videos that circulate on northern Nigerian social media end up?

Every few weeks, another such video appears. The names change, but the outrage follows a familiar script: WhatsApp groups begin asking for links, X users post screenshots before directing followers to Telegram, and Facebook pages recycle the same clips. For a day or two, timelines become courtrooms. Then attention shifts elsewhere, and the people at the centre of those scandals disappear from public conversation, but the links do not.

One such link appeared in May. An X account, now suspended, promoting what it described as a leaked intimate video involving a woman, instructed followers to continue on Telegram. Instead of downloading the material, HumAngle followed the trail, using a pseudonymous account to trace the same path thousands of other users take whenever another intimate video erupts across northern Nigerian social media.

For three months, HumAngle watched what that trail led to: an ecosystem that had evolved to survive platform bans, rebuild audiences almost overnight, and transform some of women’s most private moments into commercial products. Within that ecosystem, children appeared to have become one of its most valuable commodities.

Following the trail

It started with “Teematv” on X. HumAngle stumbled on the account promoting a teaser video following a scandal involving a Kaduna-based woman, whom HumAngle will not name to avoid re-victimising her. The X account claimed to have the “full video” and encouraged followers to access it on Telegram.

We created a pseudonymous account and followed the trail.

The first Telegram channel, “Teematv” (@teematv9), which is the main feeder channel and had over 40,000 subscribers before it got suspended in June, looked much as expected: pornography, leaked videos, and VIP subscriptions. But the longer the investigation continued, the less it resembled another anonymous pornography page. The channel did not exist in isolation. Every video and image posted linked to something else, and subscribers were encouraged to save the phone numbers provided by the administrators. “Add my contact,” she often tells subscribers. 

Once saved, these numbers unlocked Telegram Status updates, which promoted private VIP groups, which led to new administrators, who promoted replacement channels. When one account disappeared, another had already taken its place.

It felt less like browsing social media and more like walking through a marketplace where every stall owner knew the next. The journey was remarkably consistent, and the pattern held across every operator HumAngle traced; the public channels attracted attention, Telegram Status sustained it, and private conversations completed the sale. Each platform served a different purpose within the same business. X functioned as a storefront, where explicit clips and provocative teasers attracted attention and encouraged users to click through. Telegram became the marketplace itself, while WhatsApp and private Telegram conversations handled the transactions.

Looking closer, the structure reflected an operation built specifically to survive the content moderation it was navigating.

The pattern started with what appeared, and what did not appear, on X. Operators such as Teema used their X accounts to post pornographic clips into X’s video feed, content that the platform’s moderation has grown relatively permissive toward, and whose recommendation algorithm readily surfaces more of it once a user engages with it repeatedly. At no point during our three months of monitoring did HumAngle observe child sexual abuse material posted directly on X. 

Whether by experience or deliberate caution, the operators appeared to understand the distinction: ordinary pornography might slip through a platform that has relaxed many of its guardrails around adult content, but material involving children almost certainly would not survive there. The Telegram link attached to those X posts was, in turn, rarely the final destination. It served as an additional layer of security, requiring users to either save a phone number or send a private inquiry before anything further was revealed.

Only after that number was saved did the next stage begin, through Telegram Status. There, too, the same caution applied. Rather than posting material involving children directly, operators uploaded blurred collages or screenshots, with titles and scenes presented as proof that a fuller collection existed, along with a caption advertising group access and a price, directing interested buyers into a private conversation. Nothing that could be mistaken for the material itself appeared in a space Telegram or outside observers could easily flag; the proof of possession and the point of sale were kept one careful step apart. HumAngle observed screenshots of children naked and being abused.

The advertisements rarely remained online for long. Telegram Status updates disappear automatically after 24 hours, and the administrators appeared to exploit that feature deliberately, because the posts remain accessible on the profile itself to anyone who has saved their contact. On some days, one operator uploaded close to 200 Status updates, rotating through advertisements, teaser clips, and promotional graphics before repeating the process the following morning.

The result was a constantly changing catalogue. One day, the focus might be leaked intimate videos. The next, sex work services. Then paid video calls. Then another newly emerging leaked-video scandal that had just begun trending elsewhere on social media. The operators appeared to respond quickly to public attention: whenever an intimate video began circulating widely online, it often appeared inside the network within hours, repackaged as a commercial product, a short preview posted publicly with the full video available, administrators claimed, after payment. The scandals that dominated social media for a day or two became inventory.

Identifying the operators

There was one problem with Telegram usernames: they rarely lasted. By the time HumAngle finished documenting one account, another had often appeared. The usernames, invitations, and even profile photographs changed. But the people behind them did not.

To understand who was operating the network, our investigation moved beyond monitoring channels and focused instead on the digital traces the administrators had left behind, rather than the material they were advertising. The approach was deliberate: HumAngle had already decided it would not purchase access to private VIP groups or attempt to obtain any material advertised as involving children. 

Beyond the obvious ethical concerns, doing so could expose journalists to illegal content and compromise the investigation itself. Instead, we focused on the operators’ own mistakes, and the first was surprisingly ordinary: money.

Like any online business, the administrators eventually needed customers to pay. Across multiple Telegram channels and Status updates, Teema repeatedly instructed interested buyers to save a phone number before making enquiries or completing payments. Unlike her usernames, the number rarely changed. It became the first real-world lead.

A search through Truecaller, a popular caller identification service, returned the name “Fatima Mahmud”. One result was not enough, so the same number was cross-checked against Nigerian online banking applications, including OPay and PalmPay, both of which use registered phone numbers as account identifiers and display the associated account name before a transfer is completed. Both returned the same name. For the first time, the investigation had connected one of the network’s most active operators to a real-world name, confirmed through two independent verification methods.

Finding the person behind that name proved harder. Searching “Fatima Mahmud” and “Teema” on social media produced dozens of unrelated results, and many of the accounts connected to the investigation had already been suspended or had disappeared before they could be examined. So HumAngle changed direction, following relationships rather than names: Telegram usernames led to older accounts, older accounts led to replacement accounts, and replacement accounts led to suspended X profiles, each revealing another fragment of the same digital footprint.

The same process and the same dual verification through Truecaller and banking app records identified a second recurring figure in the network who used several online identities: Deejah, Nanadady, and Deharjah. Once again, the payment trail pointed to one name: Khadija Adamu.

Despite the frequent account suspensions and identity changes, traces of her activity remained visible. As recently as July 17, Khadija remained active. In a Telegram Status update, she told followers her phone had been damaged and appealed for financial support to replace it, posting her Union Bank account details. The account name she provided, Khadija Adamu Abubakar, was confirmed through a mobile banking application search, adding a third independent verification to the identity already established through Truecaller and her OPay and PalmPay records. Fatima’s administrator account was also active at the time of publication.

Khadija’s operation mirrored Teema’s in structure, but she operated across a considerably wider segment of the online sex trade, advertising leaked intimate videos, homosexual pornography, sex work, paid sexual video chats, sex toys, sexual stimulants, and VIP groups promoted as containing child sexual abuse material. Of that range, child sexual abuse material appeared to be one of her primary products, and her pricing across the board was consistently higher than Teema’s, with VIP access advertised at between ₦50,000 and ₦100,000. From what HumAngle observed, she made no attempt to obscure or apologise for any of it.

A further question remained: were the photographs attached to their profiles genuine? At first glance, they appeared convincing: young Hausa women in casual portraits and self-portraits, but reverse-image searches using Google Lens and facial-recognition software found that several did not belong to the account holders at all. Instead, they matched publicly available photographs of Hausa actresses and other individuals whose images had been lifted from elsewhere online. The people running the accounts had carefully concealed their own identities behind someone else’s faces.

Fatima addressed this directly in the description of her main feeder channel, Teematv (@teematv9), which had more than 40,000 subscribers before it was suspended on June 12. “I post pretty Hausa girls on my page. If you see your picture here, then know [that] you are pretty,” she wrote. “Some of you are complaining. I just leave compliments as the caption. I mean no harm. [It] is just for fun.”

A final search, this time relying on Facebook’s “People You May Know” recommendation feature after the administrators’ phone numbers were saved as contacts, surfaced a profile that strongly matched the identity already established for Khadija. Fatima’s case proved less conclusive; several profiles appeared, but none could be verified with sufficient confidence. The search stopped there. We do not possess the legal powers available to law enforcement agencies, but what the reporting established was enough: two operators had been identified through the payment infrastructure they themselves had created, and neither appeared to be working alone.

The product

The advertisements followed a consistent commercial logic, and the same pricing structure recurred across all operators and channels documented in this investigation.

Individual leaked Hausa intimate videos, after a short teaser had been posted publicly, typically sold for between ₦2,000 and ₦5,000. Buyers seeking larger collections were encouraged to pay for VIP memberships instead, which administrators claimed offered hundreds of additional videos. The advertisements suggested a tiered business: casual customers bought individual videos, regular customers subscribed, and those willing to spend more were offered access to increasingly exclusive groups.

At the top of the pricing structure were advertisements for group access explicitly involving children. Unlike the adult-content advertisements, which typically promoted individual clips, these posts promised something larger: a collection, membership, exclusivity. They were usually brief: a blurred collage or screen record, a short caption, sometimes only a few words, followed by a price. Most commonly, that price was ₦50,000, though some operators, like Khadija, advertised memberships as high as ₦100,000. The wording varied slightly from one administrator to another, but the sales strategy did not, and the same pattern appeared consistently across multiple Status updates, different administrators, and different channels over the three months of monitoring.

At first, HumAngle questioned whether the advertisements were genuine; exaggerated claims to lure paying customers are common online. But the consistency, repeated across unrelated administrators using nearly identical language, made coincidence difficult to sustain as an explanation.

Teema’s advertisements illustrated how the claims were built up over time. In a sequence of Status updates viewed chronologically, she claimed her VIP collection had grown from around 600 videos to more than 800, and eventually to over 1,200. HumAngle could not independently verify those figures, but documented them as part of the marketing strategy: growth itself had become a product, with a larger claimed catalogue used to strengthen the sales pitch.

The operators appeared to understand a basic principle of online commerce: that people rarely arrive intending to make their largest purchase but are guided towards it. Every stage encouraged the next. The channels resembled a subscription business more than an ordinary social media page. Only the product was different, and its advertisements did not appear hidden in obscure corners of the internet. They appeared alongside the same promotional posts advertising leaked intimate videos, prostitution, and paid video calls. Children were not presented as something separate. They were presented as another product category, another premium tier.

HumAngle also decided not to attempt to identify the children referenced in the advertisements. INTERPOL’s International Child Sexual Exploitation database, the tool specialist law enforcement units use to identify victims and offenders worldwide, treats abusive images and videos as evidence tied to real children, real locations, and real offenders, material to be handled by trained victim-identification specialists rather than pursued independently. Attempting to trace the children through the material risked compounding the harm the investigation was seeking to expose.

The network

For much of the investigation, Teema and Khadija appeared to be running separate operations: different Telegram channels, different X usernames, different pricing. It was easy to assume they were competitors. Then one Status update changed that.

While reviewing Teema’s Telegram Status one afternoon, HumAngle noticed she was no longer advertising her own channel, but Khadija’s. Only days earlier, one of Khadija’s Telegram accounts had disappeared or been removed before we could complete the documentation of its activity. The replacement account appeared almost immediately, and Teema introduced it to thousands of followers. Over the following days, the same promotion resurfaced repeatedly across dozens of Status updates before disappearing after 24 hours, only to return.

Tracing the followers who interacted with those promotions on X uncovered dozens of accounts exhibiting remarkably similar behaviour. When one profile disappeared, another announced its replacement. When Telegram removed a channel, fresh invitation links circulated through WhatsApp Status updates and newer Telegram accounts. The audience rarely needed to search; the network guided them. Investigators documented several accounts operating under different versions of Teema’s identity, including @teematv2 and @teematv3, with Khadija running parallel replacements under her own aliases.

Around them was a wider ecosystem. Channels such as AREWA GIDAN DADI, Arewagidanharkazallah, and Sadearharka surfaced repeatedly throughout the investigation.

HumAngle found no evidence that these accounts were all controlled by the same individual, nor could we establish that every operator knew every other one personally. What our investigation does establish is narrower but significant: the accounts consistently promoted one another, shared audiences, and directed followers towards replacement channels, forming a distribution network that platform bans repeatedly failed to disrupt.

The blind spot

The most surprising thing about the network was not that it existed, but that it appeared to operate in plain sight. The operators behaved less like people trying to disappear than people confident they would not be noticed. That raises a broader question: why did a network operating so openly prove so resilient?

Part of the answer may lie in language. Almost every account documented in this investigation communicated primarily in Hausa, and the cities referenced in conversations, such as Kano, Kaduna, Maiduguri, Katsina, Sokoto, and Abuja, pointed overwhelmingly to audiences in northern Nigeria. This was not simply a Nigerian online marketplace; it was a Hausa-speaking one. 

Researchers have increasingly warned that many widely spoken African languages remain “low-resource” from the perspective of artificial intelligence and automated content moderation. While Hausa is spoken by tens of millions of people across West Africa, there are comparatively fewer linguistic datasets and moderation tools to help technology companies automatically identify harmful content in the language, meaning abusive or exploitative content can be harder to detect at scale than equivalent content in English. 

Nothing in HumAngle’s investigation suggests the operators tried to hide the language they used; on the contrary, their marketing relied on local expressions and reflected the culture of Arewa social media. The same characteristics that made the network accessible to its intended audience may also have made it less visible to moderation systems built primarily around better-resourced languages.

This is not a uniquely Nigerian, or even uniquely Hausa-language, problem. Investigations in other parts of the world have documented strikingly similar patterns, in which mainstream platforms funnel users toward Telegram-based child sexual abuse material (CSAM) marketplaces that survive enforcement through rapid replacement. 

A BBC Eye investigation published in July found that Instagram’s advertising system in India was itself directing a test account toward paid child sexual abuse material sold through Telegram channels, with material advertised for as little as the naira equivalent of one US dollar; Meta’s own moderation team initially cleared one flagged advertisement as compliant with its policies, and only acted once BBC journalists sought formal comment. 

A separate investigation by Sudan’s Ayin Network documented Telegram channels operating an almost identical structure to the one described here: administrators charging roughly $30 for VIP access to material described as exclusive, channels going dark after reports only to be quickly recreated with subscribers migrated across, and content sourced from economically vulnerable communities with little legal recourse. 

Malaysiakini’s Kini News Lab has separately described Telegram as functioning as a “dark mall” for this kind of material, in which promotional content on more visible platforms consistently routes interested users toward Telegram, where moderation is comparatively lighter. 

Another investigation, conducted by the Brazilian outlet Núcleo with the Pulitzer Centre’s AI Accountability Network, found dozens of Telegram bots capable of generating AI-manipulated child sexual abuse imagery, most operating despite Telegram’s own public commitments on child safety.

These investigations point to a recurring global pattern. Broader research suggests the problem extends far beyond the networks examined in any single investigation. Research conducted by UNICEF Innocenti, ECPAT International, and INTERPOL across 13 countries in Africa and Southeast Asia found that, depending on the country, up to one in five internet-using children aged 12 to 17 had experienced online sexual abuse within a single year. Social media platforms were among the environments where children most frequently encountered the abuse. 

Nigeria was not included among the countries studied, leaving no comparable national estimate of how many Nigerian children may be affected. UNICEF and the WeProtect Global Alliance have warned that online child sexual exploitation is becoming increasingly complex as offenders adapt quickly to new technologies, encrypted platforms, and gaps in national responses, arguing that effective responses require cooperation between technology companies, law enforcement, child-protection organisations, and governments, rather than isolated moderation decisions by individual platforms. UNICEF Nigeria has separately noted that violence against children increasingly occurs in both physical and digital spaces, while support for victims remains limited.

As we identified the operators of these accounts, an obvious question emerged: if journalists could trace those digital footprints using publicly available tools, what prevented authorities from doing the same?

Nigeria does not lack the relevant laws. The Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act criminalises the production, distribution, and possession of child sexual abuse material, alongside offences relating to the use of digital platforms to facilitate unlawful activities, including the non-consensual distribution of intimate images.

The Violence Against Persons (Prohibition) Act recognises image-based sexual abuse, and children receive further protection under the Child Rights Act and the Trafficking in Persons (Prohibition) Enforcement and Administration Act. 

The activity documented in this investigation appears to fall squarely within conduct already prohibited under Nigerian law. Over three months of monitoring, HumAngle found no public record of investigations or prosecutions specifically targeting the Hausa-language Telegram ecosystem documented in this reporting, even as channels disappeared, replacement channels emerged, subscribers migrated, and the marketplace continued operating.

The threat was not entirely new to Nigerian authorities. In 2023, the National Agency for the Prohibition of Trafficking in Persons (NAPTIP) said it had observed increasing cases involving child sexual abuse material, sextortion, and revenge pornography, and had established a Cybersecurity Response Team, in partnership with organisations including Meta and the United States National Centre for Missing and Exploited Children (NCMEC). That year, the agency said it was investigating six cyber-tip reports involving online child exploitation and sextortion, drawing on NCMEC’s CyberTipline, the centralised reporting system through which tech companies and the public flag suspected child exploitation to law enforcement worldwide. What remains unclear is whether the Hausa-language network HumAngle documented had ever entered that reporting system.

The network appeared to exploit precisely the jurisdictional and institutional gaps that researchers have long warned about: Telegram channels directed users toward WhatsApp, WhatsApp conversations led back to Telegram, and X attracted new audiences, with each platform seeing only one part of the picture while the operators appeared to see the whole. Platform enforcement removed accounts. Law enforcement, at least publicly, appeared largely absent, aside from the small number of cases NAPTIP said it was already investigating. 

What follows

Before publication, HumAngle shared its findings with Telegram and NAPTIP, seeking answers about the network, its operators, and the apparent gaps that allowed it to persist. The advertisements, the Telegram links, the payment instructions, and the phone numbers had all been public. The operators had made no effort to hide them.

OASIS have officially landed the UK’s biggest selling studio album of all time.

New lists revealed today have shown how the band’s epic reunion last year has prompted their iconic studio album, (What’s The Story?) Morning Glory, to become Britain’s biggest seller.

The 1995 record has seen brothers Noel and Liam leapfrog The Beatles‘ 1967 album Sgt. Pepper – previously the long-standing biggest studio album.

Oasis now sit at number three overall – with ABBA and Queen’s compilation records in first and second position.

A source told The Sun of the epic achievement: “This milestone cements Oasis as the UK’s most influential and successful band.

“After their Oasis Live ‘25 shows last year, that album sold like hot cakes.

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“With their 2027 dates due to be announced next month, the sales are only going to skyrocket.

“Noel and Liam should be cracking out the champagne.”

The Official Charts Company confirmed the rankings today as they marked 70 years of compiling Britain’s music.

Sitting behind Oasis at number four is Adele’s 2011 record, 21, which has managed to push The Beatles’ 1967 effort into fifth place overall – with those three records making up Britain’s biggest studio albums of all time.

The 1970s take over sixth and seventh position with Fleetwood Mac‘s ’73 album, Rumours, in sixth followed by Pink Floyd’s 1973 effort, The Dark Side of the Moon.

Michael Jackson sits in eighth with 1982’s Thriller followed by Bob Marley’ ’84 record Legend in ninth and Dire Straits’ 1985 release, Brothers in Arms, rounding out the top ten.

A CONTROVERSIAL US rock star has cancelled his European tour after revealing he’s “wildly sick”.

Singer Ryan Adams, 51, also shared that he is selling all of his prized possessions after falling on hard times

Announcing the news that the star had pulled out of his tour dates, his promoter posted: “Due to circumstances beyond our control, the upcoming Ryan Adams European Tour has been cancelled.

“We apologize to all those who bought tickets and were excited for these shows.

“Refunds will be processed automatically and if you have any questions please contact your point of purchase.

“Ryan is doing ok and working hard to finish the new album trilogy. New music on the way.”

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Ryan re-posted the statement and wrote: “Tough times. Been sick. Fall tour cancelled.”

Shortly before he revealed that his tour was cancelled, Ryan also shared a post on Instagram where he revealed he was selling his belongings, as he was “broke”.

The singer announced he was putting guitars, studio equipment, and a Cadillac up for sale, among other things,

The emotional statement read: “I’m broke and sick and tired and defeated but my heart is blasting with hope and love and riff optimism and I appreciate anybody who can give these treasured things a new life.

“I’m proud that I did this. That I remain transparent. This business is vile and full of snakes.

“But I’m proud to call it and man up to this. I’ll keep making records as long as I can afford to.

“Now I’m going to go sit in the sunlight with my cats and cry because I need to and I’m not sure how many more times I can hit this wall. When is it enough?”

Ryan has released 30 albums and sold millions of records worldwide.

But despite his fame, he has often hit the headlines for the wrong reasons.

In 2019, seven women came forward, including his ex wife, actress Mandy Moore, with accusations of inappropriate behaviour from him.

At first he denied the allegations, however, the following year he issued a statement where he apologised.

London, United Kingdom – Activists who gained access to the widely condemned Great Israeli Real Estate Event in London have shared photos with Al Jazeera that show property in illegal settlements being marketed.

The invite-only event, held at Edgware United Synagogue, was part of a roadshow promoting the sale of land and property in Israel, but in reality, these included homes in areas such as Givat Zeev and Tivuch Shelly in the occupied West Bank, as well as settlements in East Jerusalem.

“Exciting new project just 10 minutes from Jerusalem!” read a leaflet advertising homes, “some with pools!” in Maale Adumim, a West Bank settlement illegal under international law.

Isabel, a member of the Jewish Anti-Zionist Action group who spoke to Al Jazeera on condition of anonymity, said that the mood at the fair was peaceful and heavily protected, including by plainclothes men fitted with body cameras.

She did not hear any participants mention Palestinians, she said, adding that when it came to the occupied Palestinian territory, real estate agents spoke of “Anglo-communities” where English-speaking people from the United States, the UK and South Africa could relocate to.

She said a popular selling point used by real estate agents was that due to the war on Gaza, it was a good time to buy property in Israel, as prices had dropped and they might be willing to offer a discount.

The atmosphere reminded her of the opening week of university with social chatter, stalls and strangers pushing flyers at attendees.

“Unlike outside the synagogue, where there was lots of protests, it was calm inside with a heavy police presence, [security] people even wearing body cams. The room was all set up with stalls, in what I would describe as like freshers’ fair. On the tables were free pens, chocolates.”

When Isabel spoke with representatives from the Israeli real estate company Harey Zahav, she was shown advertisements for properties in Jerusalem as well as Netanya, a resort city in central Israel.

More than 100 British legislators, including members of Prime Minister Keir Starmer’s Labour Party, had signed a letter on Friday urging the government to “uphold its obligations under international law” and ensure the event “promoting illegal activities does not proceed”.

Layla Moran, a British MP of Palestinian descent and one of the letter’s signatories, described the sales as “unacceptable”.

Gaza war could mean discounts, said participants

When Isabel told participants she was interested in something a little quieter, they said in hushed tones that they also had a portfolio of properties in “Judea and Samaria”, the Israeli term for the occupied West Bank.

One representative said that organisers asked them not to advertise properties in these locations. When asked why, he said it was due to these “crazy times” when people wanted to stop purchasing property in Israel.

He said they had all the information packs for those properties, but requested her details so he could send them to her afterwards.

At the stand of Tivuch Shelly, another Israeli real estate company, Isabel said representatives were more reticent to discuss properties in the occupied West Bank, but were openly advertising properties in Givat Hamatos and Ramat Eshkol, two settlements in occupied Jerusalem, on their flyers.

An activist with Jewish Anti-Zionist Action at one point shouted out that “this event sells property on illegally occupied stolen Palestinian land” before he was removed by security.

But the overall mood inside the fair was in sharp contrast to the protests and tense atmosphere outside the event.

In the buildup, rights groups, including Amnesty International, as well as the mayor of London, Sadiq Khan, slammed the event for openly advertising the sale of land in illegal Israeli settlements.

Outside, hundreds of protesters shouted slogans and held posters reading, “Stop Israel’s illegal sale of stolen Palestinian land” and “Thou shalt not steal”.

The Metropolitan Police said 15 people were arrested during the demonstrations “for a range of offences, including public order matters”.

Green Party leader Zack Polanski has written to Khan, calling for the event to be investigated by the Metropolitan Police.

Khan earlier said he had discussed the event with the London police force and had been told that any allegations of criminality relating to the potentially unlawful sale of property at the fair would be assessed by the Met as part of a probe.

Israeli settlement expansion

Israeli settlers are Israeli citizens who live illegally on Palestinian land.

Israel started building illegal settlements after capturing the West Bank, East Jerusalem and the Gaza Strip in the June 1967 Six-Day War, and now, more than 700,000 settlers – 10 percent of Israel’s population – live in 150 illegal settlements and 128 outposts spread across the occupied West Bank and East Jerusalem.

The government has openly funded and built settlements, and Israeli authorities give their settlers in the occupied West Bank about $5.6m a year to monitor, report and restrict Palestinian construction in Area C, which is administered solely by Israel and comprises more than 60 percent of the West Bank.

United Nations bodies and most countries view the West Bank settlements as illegal, citing international conventions.

But the US has provided diplomatic cover to Israel for decades, with Washington consistently using its veto power at the UN to protect Israel from diplomatic censure.

DISGRACED reality TV star Stephen Bear has set up a market stall selling £2 smoothies with his pregnant teenage wife.

Bear, 36, was spotted on Sunday flogging fruit juice in Walthamstow, north-east London, with his Brazilian missus Miami, 19.

The former Ex on the Beach cast member was sentenced in March 2023 to 21 months in prison for uploading CCTV footage of himself having sex with ex-girlfriend Georgia Harrison, 31, to his OnlyFans account without consent.  

An eyewitness who saw the Walthamstow-born sex offender, who won the 18th series of Celebrity Big Brother in 2016, said: “I was walking past the market at about 1pm on Sunday and spotted him and recognised him from Ex on the Beach.

“He had set up one of those folding tables and someone stopped and asked him for a selfie.

“By the time I went back that way around an hour later they had gone.

“They were doing different flavours like strawberry and mango, putting the fruit in a nutribullet blender and selling them for just £2 in those plastic cups with the round lid on the top.

“It’s hard to think he’s even making a profit at that price, fruit is so expensive at the moment.”  

Bear announced his intention to set up a stall in the market in a social media video posted three weeks ago.

But he said it would likely be after he makes his boxing debut on July 25.
He is due to fight Andy “The Silencer” Lee at York Hall in Bethnal Green, east London.

In the clip posted to his TikTok on May 10, in which he can be seen being driven by his brother Rob, Bear said: “We’ve got some breaking news guys.

“Me and Rob’s decided we’re going to inquire and get a market stall down Walthamstow market.

“We’re thinking you don’t want to travel far to sell your bits and pieces, and if you never need to store anything, the house is, like, five minutes away from Walthamstow market.

“So send me a DM, what you think we should sell on our stall and then we’re going to inquire.

“Probably going to be after my boxing match, July 25, I’m going to get that out of the way first.”

After Rob suggested selling T-shirts or fruit and veg, Bear said: “I think if you’re holding fruit and veg, it’s going to go off, so we’re not going to do that.

“But we’re going sell something out of the ordinary.

“Send us a DM, what you think we should sell on our market stall.”

Bear married then 18-year-old Miami in her native Brazil in July 2025, around 18 months after he was released from HMP Brixton.  

The couple – who post X-rated content together – announced in March that they are expecting their first child.

Bear, who served 10 and a half months of his sentence, was ordered to pay his former Love Island and The Only Way is Essex star ex Georgia £207,900 in civil damages.

In March 2024, Georgia later said that she had received “not one penny” of it or the £212,515 she was owed for lawyers’ fees.

Bear was then ordered to pay HM Treasury the £22,305 he made in profits from subscribers after uploading the video and £5,000 in compensation to Georgia.

The Sun asked Bear for comment.